


First date, first....everything

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Top Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: He repeats his mantra under his breath of “be cool, be cool, be cool” as he waits for his date to arrive. He doesn’t think he’ll need to have a conversation about his lack of experience, becausea) that would just be embarrassing, andb) they’re adults, not horny teenagers, surely things won’t go that far right?At most, a little necking. (He resolutely doesn’t think about the fact that the bed is freshly made with the good sheets).The “be cool” plan goes right out the window when Peter turns up wearing ass hugging dark blue jeans, a checked collared shirt with the top three buttons undone showing off that insanely hot neck, and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and Good Lord kill him now, a motherfucking waistcoat.





	1. Motherfucking Waistcoat.

Peter has probably got a shit ton of experience with dating guys, but Stiles? Not so much.

  
After years of being the loud skinny sidekick , Stiles had accepted that hot was something that happened to other people.  
While he was at college, though, he grew into himself without noticing, and suddenly he wasn’t all limbs, he was he a lithe, lean, attractive man with a pretty face. But he genuinely didn’t see what he’d turned into, and was utterly confused the first time he heard a murmured “Dat ass tho” from behind him, and looked around to see a guy checking him out blatantly before winking and walking off.

  
Stiles Stilinski was finally hot, and he had absolutely no clue.

  
And so he laughed when people suggested they’d like to do… _.things_ with him, assumed they were kidding, stayed single, bar a few coffee dates ( and that one time at a nightclub where he got slightly drunk and ended up getting blown by a guy in an alley out the back).

Stiles figures that steak is a safe bet for dinner with a werewolf, and also he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to screw it up. He prepares the salads to go with it, cleans his apartment, and mentally prepares himself for the challenge of being in close unsupervised proximity with a man who he just wants to get his hands on.  
Because the way Peter had looked when he’d murmured in Stiles ear, suddenly it didn’t seem farfetched to think maybe he was at least a little desirable. Peter had looked like he wanted to pin him down then and there, and that was an idea Stiles could totally get behind.

He repeats his mantra under his breath of “be cool, be cool, be cool” as he waits for his date to arrive. He doesn’t think he’ll need to have a conversation about his lack of experience, because  
a) that would just be embarrassing, and  
b) they’re adults, not horny teenagers, surely things won’t go that far right? At most, a little necking.  
(He resolutely doesn’t think about the fact that the bed is freshly made with the good sheets).

  
The “be cool” plan goes right out the window when Peter turns up wearing ass hugging dark blue jeans, a checked collared shirt with the top three buttons undone showing off that insanely hot neck, and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and Good Lord kill him now, a _motherfucking waistcoat._  
He stares for a second and Peter smirks, because he knows exactly how he looks, before handing over the beer he has brought with him and walking past Stiles into the apartment.

Stiles blinks, takes a moment to gather himself, and follows Peter back inside and oh no, that’s not any better because now he has a prime view of Peter’s ass and the BACK of that damn neck. Stiles is so done.  
But he does his best to be a good host, puts the beer in the fridge, turns the pan on for the steaks, and concentrates on cooking so he won’t look like the total idiot he feels like.

  
It’s a good plan, until he turns around to find Peter standing right behind him, leaning forwards to look in the pan, with a wolfish “I like a man who knows how to handle his meat”.  
And it should be cheesy and groan worthy, it’s the sort of pickup line that deserves to be met with a resounding " _Fuck OFF_!” and a punch to the shoulder, except it’s Peter, and he smells amazing, and he’s right there within reach, and seven minutes into their first date Stiles is running his hands over Peter’s shoulders and down his back, cupping his ass and muttering “Holy shit, I need to touch you.”

  
Peter turns him around and backs him up against the fridge, and Stiles gets the hottest kiss of his life. There’s nothing gentle and sweet about this, it’s kissing with _intent_. Peter’s tongue presses into his mouth and they both moan, Stiles running his hands up and down that muscular back and over Peter’s backside, while Peter tilts his head back with a hand in Stiles’ hair, kissing him hard and hot and relentless, before moving down to his neck, and Stiles knows throats are a wolf thing, but even so, the intensity with which Peter starts sucking on the column of his neck is a shock.

  
What surprises him even more, though, is the strength of his reaction. He’s never been so turned on in his goddam life, has never wanted somebody this much, but Peter hits all of his buttons at once, and then he’s got one thigh pressed between Stiles’ legs, and Stiles can feel that they’re both hard, and that thick, solid thigh was made for grinding up against, and Stiles has no shame as he moans and presses forwards rhythmically, and it’s so good, and he thinks he’s going to come right here, still clothed, and Peter’s STILL sucking on his neck , and it feels amazing, and he feels he’s forgotten something……..

  
The shrill relentless beeping of the smoke detector is like nails down a chalkboard, dragging him kicking and screaming back into his smoke filled kitchen and the charred mess that used to be two prime steaks.  
Peter reacts in a flash and pulls away, and Stiles stifles a moan because shit, he was going to be an adult and now he screwed it up by humping Peter’s leg like a dog, what is he, 16?

  
But then he realizes that Peter has just dumped the smoking pan in the sink and turned some water on it, before jumping up onto the counter in a single leap (and isn’t _that_ hot?) to lean over and press the reset button on the smoke alarm, killing the awful noise and leaving it suddenly silent, except for the sound of two grown men panting.  
And suddenly, Stiles is being hoisted over Peter’s shoulder, and a thrill of arousal bursts through him at the sensation of being carried across the room in long strides, out of the kitchen, through the living room, and towards where Peter has guessed his bedroom to be. He’s not sure why this turns him on so much, but it turns him on SO much, he’s whining and squirming, gasping out “Please”, to whatever Peter wants.

  
He expected (hoped)that Peter would throw him onto the bed caveman style, but instead, he slides him down gently to the floor, circles his arms around him, holding him almost as if they are slow dancing, fixes him with a look, and says “Tell me what you want, little rabbit. Do you want this slow? Fast? Sweet? Rough? I need to know before we start.”  
And Stiles opens his mouth, and is stunned to hear himself say “All. I want it all.”

Which was not what he had intended to say at all, but at Peter’s pleased expression he guesses it was a good answer.

And he should really shut up now, but once again his mouth betrays him by continuing to talk…”but in the interests of full disclosure, we should probably start slow, since, I’ve never, _exactly_ , you know, I mean there was this guy in a nightclub once, but that was just his mouth, does that mean I’m not technically a virgin? I mean I want to, obviously, with you, because you’re hot like burning, and you’re wearing a _waistcoat_ for Christ’s sake, how can I resist that? And God, I’ve made it weird , I’ll shut up now, I’m s…..” His ramblings are cut off by Peter’s mouth on his, kissing him for all he’s worth, and Peter is growling softly, possessively.

When he pulls back, there’s a hungry gleam in his eye, and he drawls “So what you’re telling me, Stiles, is that you, in this body, have managed to go through college and nobody has tapped that? And now, you want your first time to be with me. And that you have a thing for waistcoats.”

Stiles nods dumbly.

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re going to have _such_ a good time” Peter croons. “I’m going to ruin you for anybody else”

  
And Stiles just breathes out “ Oh God, yes please”

 


	2. Not That Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter growls out lowly “Stiles, if you think I’m the type of man to ever just “put it in” , even if it’s “not that good”, then later, we are going to have a serious talk about how low your expectations are. But first, I’m going to take you apart till you’re screaming my name my dear boy. Are.We.Clear?”  
> In which Peter is a chivalrous crusader for ripped off virgins everywhere. it's a matter of honour, really.

They  have a very awkward but necessary conversation about condoms, where Stiles proposes that since he hasn’t been with anyone, and Peter can’t catch or pass on anything, (and No Stiles, male wolf pregnancy is not a thing, what the hell has Scott been telling you?), that he would really, really, like his first time to be without, much to Peter and his wolf’s delight.

 

Peter carries Stiles to the bed just because he knows he likes it, and lays him out on his back, before laying over him and continuing to kiss him senseless, while running his hands through his hair. Stiles in return touches Peter anywhere he can get his hands, enjoying the flex of muscles under his fingertips, grasping at Peter’s firm ass cheeks, and finally shyly reaching between their bodies to touch Peter’s erection. Peter lets out a tiny groan, and his hand slides over top of Stiles, slowly sliding up and down his shaft as he shows the younger man exactly how he likes to be touched.  He rolls over to the side so they are lying next to each other and he can see  what he’s working with, and it’s a beautiful sight, truly.

Acres and acres of pale flesh just crying out to be touched, and really, Peter finds in incomprehensible that nobody has been allowed here before him. His wolfish side preens.

They are both hard, both leaking, and Peter knows that he wants to make this so good for the young man, so he leans over and takes him in his mouth, grinning at the sharp intake of breath from Stiles. He slides his lips up and down a few times, before coming up and saying “I’m just going to take the edge off for you sweetheart, get you relaxed, want it to be good for you. “ before lowering his head again and going to work in earnest.

 It doesn’t take long before Stiles is thrusting up into his mouth, and Peter can feel he’s close…..so he hums round Stile’s shaft, and that’s it, all over, game set and match, as  Stiles comes down his throat with a loud cry. He swallows it all down, then lifts his head to see the young man staring at him wide eyed, breathing out a “Holy shit Peter.” and throwing his head back with a groan.

“Wanted to last longer” he grumbles. Peter simply snickers at him. “What, you think that’s it sweet boy? That was the warmup.  Now we start for real.”

And promptly rolls Stiles over onto his front, and begins to… massage his back and shoulders. Stiles tries not to think too hard about why Peter’s carrying a vial of oil with him, and why he’s giving him a massage, it’s  nice and all, but he’s ready for sexy times, and now that they’re here, he’d like to move on thanks, because he knows the first time’s probably going to suck, so he sort of wants to get it over with so it can start being good. Truth be told, part of the reason Stiles is still a virgin is because  he hasn’t met anyone he trusts will want a second time after they sleep with him once.

 Still, the massage IS nice, and he’s relaxing, nearly dozing, just drifting in his head, when Peter leans down and whispers in his ear, “OK Sweet boy, you’re ready now. I’m going to open you up a little. Tell me if it’s too much.” And with that an oil slicked finger slides down into the crack of his ass, and whispers past his hole, a barely there touch. It feels nice, and Stiles sighs and opens his legs a little wider as a sign of assent. And there it is again, gently passing over his hole, back and forth, slowly, slowly, increasing in pressure, stimulating all those nerve endings, and suddenly it’s gone from feeling nice to feeling _good_ , and he moans, just  a little.

 

“He hears Peter crooning “So pretty Stiles, just relax, you look so good, can’t wait to make you mine” and the possessiveness in his voice makes Stiles feel like maybe this won’t suck too badly. He must say something to that effect out loud, because Peter turns his head to the side so he can look him in the eye, and tells him “people who think the first time has to suck are idiots, and impatient. We’re going to take our time.You're going to be fine. And trust me, I’m very good at what I do” And then he slips just the tip of his finger inside, there and gone, quick as you like, and smirks.

Time passes, and the tip of that finger darts into Stiles ass at random intervals, like a minnow between river stones, tiny, slippery, quick, until Stiles is pushing his ass backwards, silently hinting for more.

 And the tip becomes the first knuckle, quick, quick, in and out, in and out, then round and round the pucker, soothing relaxing, then in again and this time for a little longer,  moving and twisting, and Stiles feels himself beginning to harden up again, and starts to rut gently against the sheets. After a few minutes, Peter whispers in his ear in his smoky voice, “A little more now darling,” and suddenly there’s a second finger joining the first, once again, quick, quick, minnow in a rockpool, just the tips dipping in, until suddenly  it isn’t, suddenly there are two fingers working in and out of Stile’s ass, gently twisting and rubbing , stretching his rim out, and it feels strange, but it feels good, and Stiles is reminded of the moment when a cramped calf muscles releases – the moment of slightly painful tightening, followed by the relief as the knot in the muscle lets go.

Stiles somehow thought that they would get through the preparation  as fast as possible,  that Peter would be impatient to get to the main event, that like Stiles, he would want to get the first fuck out of the way, be it good, bad or indifferent.

But then, Peter murmurs in his ear, “So pretty like this Stiles, watching you for the first time, you’re doing so well darling. Ready for more?” And there’s a rough edge to his voice that clues Stiles in to the fact the Peter’s enjoying this part as much as he is.

And oh, he is. His rim is stretched and tingling, his cock is rubbing gently against the soft linens, and he’s starting to grind back on Peter’s hand and moan.

“Yeah, S’good, more” he huffs out, and Peter hooks his fingers forwards and rubs over something inside and _holy fuck_   that was something else. He jerks forwards at the stimulation to his prostate and Peter laughs, a low, throaty chuckle with an undertone of mischief. And does it again. And again.

By now Stiles is writhing and swearing, his cock is absolutely dripping, his ass is twitching, and that’s when Peter slides a third finger in, quick as a flash, and continues to massage Stiles’ prostate while stretching his rim even further. He shapes his fingers into a cone and continues to pump in and out of Stiles in long, smooth, strokes, all the while rubbing his other hand up and down his flank as though soothing a skittish colt.

“Please! Do something…..anything…I swear, I’m ready, please Peter…, just put it in me.Doesn’t even have to be that good!” Stiles babbles, because he’s so, so, ready to come again, the prostate stimulation has him desperate, and he really, really doesn’t care, he just wants to feel a cock in his ass.

But what he feels instead is the fingers withdrawing, (and that’s the weirdest feeling ever) And Peter gently rolling him onto his back,  and oh, Peter is looking down at him, arms folded and eyebrow arched, and he seems….disappointed?

Stiles is confused, his mind fuzzy from lust, but he knows that somehow he’s wrecked this. Fuck.

Peter growls out lowly “Stiles, if you think I’m the type of man to _ever_ just “put it in” (oh, and Stiles can hear the air quotes, shit)  even if it’s “not that good”, then later, we are going to have a serious talk about how low your expectations are.  But first, I’m going to take you apart till you’re screaming my name my dear boy. Are.We.Clear?”

And damn, that’s hot. Stiles whimpers a little, gazes up at Peter with wide eyes. “Please, Peter. Show me”.

“With greatest pleasure” Peter smirks. “Stay on your back sweetheart, it’ll feel better for you this way” he says, as he eases a pillow under Stiles’ hips, and arranges those long , long  legs over his shoulders.

He has a point to prove now, to Stiles and to every poor sap out there who is accepting mediocre  first time sex. And never let it be said he backs away from a challenge

He slides his fingers back inside for a moment, applying more oil, making sure Stiles in stretched out, adjusting the angle of his hips, and after removing them again, he leans forwards and starts slowly,  slowly, stroking Stiles’ cock. He has to admit, it’s an impressive length; longer than his certainly, in proportion to the tall body, and he takes a moment to just appreciate the throb of it under his hand as he rubs up and down the shaft.

Then while Stile is half distracted by the stimulation, he nudges the head of the cock against Stiles’ hole, whispers “Push out Stiles, and breathe…” and pushes the mushroom head in through the ring of muscle, and it slides straight in, easy as breathing, easy as anything, and Stiles’ eyes grow wide, because this, this is what he wanted, and it feels _good,_ he was genuinely expecting some pain, but this is amazing. Peter continues to slide in, slowly, little rocking motions of his hips pushing him further each time, until after weeks or days or minutes, who can tell, he’s all the way in. And fuck but he feels stretched, and full, and amazing.

Stiles lays beneath him, panting, whimpering, squirming.  Peter gives him a minute to adjust to the sheer stretch of his first cock,then raises an eyebrow at him in silent query – we good?-  And Stiles answers with a blinding smile that says – _so fucking good_.

He starts to roll his hips forwards  in a sensual drag, sliding in and out easily, steadily, and with a slight change of angle he manages to find Stiles prostate again. He knows exactly when he hits the right spot because Stiles arches upwards with a strangled noise that Peter has never heard him make before, but would very much like to hear again thank you.  

Stiles starts begging for more, “ Please Peter oh fuck, so good, please, move, holy shit, better than I ever thought, keep going…” he continues to babble, variations on a theme, and Peter grins a fond grin– Stiles is a talker during sex, colour him surprised.

 

Stiles is tight round him, and hot, and it’s easy to fall into a slow, smooth,rhythm that soon has them both gasping and moaning in shared pleasure. He can see the moment when Stiles relaxes into it, throwing his head back and exposing his throat, and really, he’s a wolf, what else is he going to do but lean forwards and nuzzle?

The brush of his goatee over the sensitive skin of Stiles’ throat draws a keening noise from Stiles, especially when he brushes over the giant bruise he left on the boys throat earlier…..Peter wonders briefly if Stiles likes a little pain with his pleasure, is about to ask -  and then realizes that Stiles _probably doesn’t know, because this is all new to him._

And the thought that he can be the one to show Stiles all of this, that has him heading towards his climax faster than  he would have thought possible.  But first, he knows, he has to make it good for Stiles, good enough that he will never, ever again, think that “not that good”  is an option.

As he continues to thrust , picking up speed in response to Stiles’ requests for faster, harder, more, and as the boy begins to pant and whine harder beneath him, Peter knows he’s close, and he  has a theory to test, so he leans down, take one dusky nipple in his mouth, and sucks _hard._ The squeak he gets in response, along with the twitch of Stile’s cock, tells him he’s onto something good here, so he does it again, before lifting his head and asking “More?”

The vigorous nod he gets in reply confirms what he suspected;  Stiles likes a little _bite_ to his fun. And so he does. Bite, that is. He bites and sucks at the younger man’s nipples as Stiles goes absolutely wild beneath him , bruising the pink tips to a dark blush, until Stiles bucks up, crying “Peter! Peter! Too much! Too much! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” sobbing  as the orgasm rips through him, coming and coming, spurting between their bodies with not a hand on his cock, just Peter’s dick in his ass, and teeth at his chest, shaking like he may never stop, and the sight and sound of him is so magnificent, so primal, that it’s mere moments before Peter reacts to Stiles clenching down on him, thrusting forwards once, twice, and then surrendering to his own climax.

 

Beneath him, Stiles breathes heavily, a deep contented sigh. Peter lowers Stile’s legs off his shoulders and pulls out slowly, shushing Stiles when he whines at the sensation. “There there sweetheart, it’s ok, just lay there and recover. “  After Peter does the gentlemanly thing and fetches a towel to clean them up, and a beer each from the fridge, they lay there quietly next to each other, catching  their breath, coming down from the endorphins, dangerously close to snuggling.

Then suddenly, Stiles snorts.  He starts to laugh, sounding unhinged and breathless, as Peter looks on quizzically.

“Care to share?” he asks.

Stiles is full blown cackling now, all the emotion of the evening catching up with him, and it takes several tries for him to catch his breath enough to wheeze out “…….I was only hoping for a little necking…” before collapsing in laughter again.

Peter pulls the laughing man into his side, arms circling his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder, before snickering “Oh, really?  A little necking? Because these lovely thousand  count sheets make a liar out of you, boy”.

Finally able to stop laughing, Stiles turns to Peter, eyes bright with mischief. “Yeah, the good sheets. Well they aren’t clean _now_ …..wanna make more mess _?”_

And really, that’s an invitation that needs no repeating. Stiles _did_ say he wants it all, after all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* Wall sex next chapter, and an explanation for Peter's mystery oil.


	3. Potato Salad and Olive Oil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are asked and answered. Walls are violated. Oil is explained.

Stiles rolled over, pulling himself from Peter’s arms, and slid out of bed, a hiss escaping him as he rose to his feet. Peter watched him leave the room , enjoying the sight of the young man’s pert ass and fine legs as he departed. “Sad to see you go, love to watch you leave” he muttered to himself.

The last thing he expected was Stiles to return to the bedroom moments later, clutching his bounty to his chest with a gleeful look. He was carrying……the potato salad from dinner, and two forks. “Stiles” Peter drawled, “this isn’t what I thought you meant when you said make more mess in bed”

“Oh no, it isn’t” Stiles agreed, “ but I did invite you for dinner, and I’m hungry, and carb loading, dude. We might need the energy” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Peter snorted and accepted a fork, digging into the dish. The salad was surprisingly good, raised above the normal standard by virtue of having crispy bacon in it, and they ate companionably while drinking their beer, until they had emptied most of the bowl. Finally full, Stiles grabbed their empty bottles and the dregs of their dinner and carried them out of the room, still wincing slightly as he walked.

When he came back, he climbed gingerly back into bed. Peter looked at him, concerned. “Sore, sweetheart? ’ he inquired. “Because if it’s too bad I can take your pain a little, if you’d like?” He extended a hand towards Stiles, offering. He was surprised by the strength of Stiles’ reaction – he actually scrambled back, as if Peter might touch him without permission, while saying “I’m good, it’s fine”, and crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

What the hell?

Peter drew his hand back, and looked at the young man, considering. He didn’t like to think that for all the care he’d taken he’d crossed the line and hurt Stiles so badly that he was afraid of him; he didn’t smell afraid, and he knew he’d definitely enjoyed himself, so what exactly was this?

Choosing his words carefully, Peter spoke….”are you saying no because you’re not in pain, or because you _are_ , and you like it a little?” And who knew that after how they’d spent their evening, after his earlier bravado, that Stiles could blush so? The redness covered his face and extended down his neck and chest, adding a layer of colour to his bruised nipples. Peter, always one to test his theories through practical application, darted his hand out and tugged gently on the darkest bruising, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a moan. Ah.

“Stiles, you know its ok to enjoy this right? Whatever gives you pleasure” he said softly.

Stiles raised his head then, still blushing, and confessed, “It hurts, but it’s a good hurt, and my ass does kinda ache, but it’s like I want it to, you know? Like, when I walk my body is saying “Peter was here” and if you took that pain, it’s cheating?I want to wake up tomorrow and feel everything. So I know it was real. And it was _so good_ Peter, it was so damn good, I’m sorry I ever thought it would be anything else , I should have known you’d be awesome at this, you’ve probably had hundreds of lovers to practice with…”

“Four” Peter suddenly interrupted.

Stiles blinked. “Pardon?”

“Four lovers, Stiles” (and why was he telling him this?) “I’m not one to jump into bed at the drop of a hat (this drew a disbelieving look)…normally, I mean. I’m a wolf. I’m strong. And my wolf side has….tendencies…that not everyone appreciates.”

Stiles exhaled slowly, suddenly deeply interested in the state of his nails, as he oh so casually asked, “Oh yeah? Like what for instance?” And here goes nothing, this was nice while it lasted, but life isn’t some cheesy bad BDSM novel where the young virgin does what they’re told without question by their first lover. Peter’s glad he at least got to give Stiles a good first time.

“My wolf, he likes to dominate, Stiles. And so do I. What we did today, that was truly fantastic, don’t doubt that for a second. But sometimes, I like to play a little…rough. Slick myself up and just take what I need, hold you down and bite your neck, press you up against a wall, drop you onto my cock like a sack of grain, and fuck you till you scream…” he stops speaking when he hears the whine coming from Stiles.

Who is looking at him glassy eyed, breathing “yeah…all of that….” and looking like he wouldn’t mind those things, he wouldn’t mind them at all.

Peter’s wolf perks up at the sight. This might just work out after all. He says carefully “of course, if that sort of thing is OK with you….” Because consent, first, consent always. Peter might be a wolf, but he’s not an animal.

Stiles continues to stare blankly, until Peter leans in and kisses him, deep and filthy. It’s an unconventional approach, but it gets Stiles’ attention back on him, and that’s what he wants.

 

“OK sweetheart, how about we play a game of twenty questions”, turn about, so we can see where our interests overlap” Peter proposes. Stiles grins at this suggestion. “Do I get to go first? Cause I’ve got a question “.

When Peter nods, he starts with whats been on his mind for most of the night – “Peter why the hell do you carry a hip flask of oil, and where did you stash it? It wasn’t in your jeans, I’m pretty sure I would have felt the outline against your ass”. Peter blinks. That’s Stiles’ most pressing concern right now?

Still, at least it’s easy to answer. “There’s a pocket inside my vest, it’s custom made. The flask is just plain olive oil. I like to use it because it’s unscented – Werewolf nose, remember? I was carrying it because I won’t lie, I had high hopes for tonight. Want to see what else is in that pocket?” he asks cheekily.

The pocket turns out to contain condoms, wet wipes, and a small plug. (What? Peter likes to be prepared.) Stiles rolls the plug between his fingers thoughtfully, something to ask about when it’s his turn again, perhaps.

“My turn!” says Peter, much too happily.

He turns to face Stiles, and asks him, “When we made love, did you enjoy it when I bit you, did you like that little bit of pain, or did you just tolerate it in the moment…..aaaand” He holds up his hand when Stiles starts to answer “is that something you would like to try more of, or would you prefer to make love in a more conventional manner, and would you be interested in a) a second date, and b) coming back to bed with me, possibly tonight, to further explore our physical connection?”. He looks inordinately pleased with himself at having packed all that into one question.

 

“Clever bastard” mutters Stiles, but he’s grinning as he says it, obviously impressed with Peter’s sharp mind. He huffs out a breath, takes a moment to think about his answer, and replies ” When we made love, I was prepared for it to hurt, and when it didn’t, it was amazing. The sucking and biting, that was way hotter than I thought it would be. Because it was deliberate, not incidental, you know? Like, it could stop any time that I wasn’t enjoying it. Soooo, on balance, yes please can we explore that, especially the biting, but also have lots more normal sex, because I’m 22, I started late and I need to catch up. I definitely want to date you again, and I’ll be disappointed if we don’t get back into bed again tonight, as soon as possible, because I have the next three days off, and I don’t have any reason to get up tomorrow, and I also reallyreallywantwallsex” he finishes in a rush, looking hopeful even as his ears turn pink with embarrassment.

Peter looks at him open-mouthed, finally coming back with, “Well, that’s all my questions answered I think. You?”

Stiles looks at him, and totally deadpan, asks “Peter Hale, please will you hold me up against a wall, using your werewolf strength, in the very near future, and drop me on your cock like a sack of wheat , and then fuck me till I scream?”

Peter actually chokes, then whines. Stiles looks smug. Good to know he can get a reaction like that just from talking dirty. He’ll have to revisit that later.

And then he’s not thinking at all, because Peter has surged across the bed, rolled him onto his front, pushed his knees up under him, and is drizzling oil from the hip flask down onto Stiles’ crack, rubbing it in and around with his thumb while holding Stiles in place by the hip with his other hand. His voice is rough as he pants out “Goddam it Stiles, you asked for this, just remember that”.

And then he’s being dragged back across the bed, spun round, and leaned against the nearest wall, and Stiles has a moment to be glad that it’s not a communal wall with the neighbors, because he feels that could definitely get awkward with Tammy from next door.

And they say be careful what you wish for, but in this case Stiles has no regrets, because Peter is lifting him higher and higher, hands under his thighs, and then he’s lining up, Stiles can feel the head of his cock, also slick with oil, nudging his hole, and thank God he’s still a little open from before, because suddenly Peter thrusts up, and Stiles drops down like a stone, and holy shit he didn’t realise how different this would be from the gentle rocking from before, it burns so much, and he barely has time to draw breath before Peter is slamming up into him, fast and hard, and he… just doesn’t stop thrusting.

Stiles wraps his legs around Peter, and just holds on for the ride. And what a ride it is. If he felt tender before, his ass is aching now,a deep stretch and burn that somehow feels good, and he knows Peter isn’t holding anything back - his eyes are flashing, there are claws digging into Stiles’ ass, there’s a low growling coming from the back of his throat.

Stiles isn’t growling. He’s sobbing out “Oh fuck, oh yes Peter, burns so good, cock feels so big, oh God, please don’t stop,….oh…oh, yeah, right there, “ as Peter relentlessly thrusts, catching his prostate every time,and damn, he really is good at this thinks Stiles wildly, there should be some sort of medal.

And then he’s not thinking, he’s rutting his own cock against Peter’s rippling abs, and between the pressure in his ass and on his prostate, the sting on his bruised nipples as they’re pressed up against Peter’s chest, and the sensation of his dick sliding up and down, it doesn’t take long before he’s arching back, screaming and shooting his load.

Peter though, Peter doesn’t care. And Peter doesn’t stop. He just keeps fucking.

“You asked for this, Stiles” he grunts out roughly, and then, impossibly, speeds up, and if Stiles thought he wasn’t holding back before, he was really not prepared for this. It’s frantic, and his ass hurts, and there’s nothing he can do but hang on and whimper, and hope like hell he can take it.

He leans forwards and starts to lick and suck at Peter’s impossible neck, and that seems to be what it takes to push him over the edge, because he slams up into Stiles with an almighty roar, and Stiles feels the hot, wet, sensation of his ass filling with come, and the extra stretch around his rim as Peter forces himself as far in as he can go.

They remain there for a minute or so, Stiles panting and groaning, Peter breathing heavy and grinning.

Peter carries Stiles into the shower afterwards, just because he knows he likes it. As he holds a drooping Stiles up under the steamy water, he murmurs “My turn for a question. Was that too much?”

Stiles answers his question with a lazy grin. “Nope. Was hot. Now wash me, Wolfman.”

And as he’s carried back to bed afterwards, Stiles starts to think about what else he’d like to try. Because he’s pretty sure that if he asks in _just_ the right way, and gets Peter to choke and whine the way he did, he’ll agree to pretty much anything.

**Author's Note:**

> My name is Bunnywest and I have a Steter problem. This thing has grown legs and run away from me. Send help. ( or subscribe to the series if you like my lame scribblings, that's good too.)


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